


Who am I Now?

by Jess Riley (jessriley)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-14
Updated: 2008-10-14
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessriley/pseuds/Jess%20Riley
Summary: How do you fight for the life of a friend when the life you are fighting for no longer belongs to the man you once knew?





	Who am I Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> We don't really celebrate Halloween over this side of the pond, but I wrote this last year simply to join in the fun!
> 
> Thank you as always to StarWatcher. 

  


_*...I would find myself plunged at oncein some foul and ominous nightmare, from which I would awake strangling..._

It's a nightmare from which I'm not sure we'll ever escape. Not completely, not eternally.

"I'm sorry," he whispers."I'm so sorry to put you through this."

"It's okay," I reassure,trailing the cool, damp cloth across the parched skin of his fevered body."You just need some time. Time, that's all."

"Did I hurt you?"

I wince at his words. How can I answer truthfully? How do I tell him that my body is battered and bruised, bearing the hideous scars of his rage, while my soul lays open, bearing witness to the poison of his venomous tongue.

He's getting stronger now. Each time, with each episode, his fury mounts. Drawing his strength from the insidious mix of chemicals coursing through his veins, he lashes out with an anger that has no control, and exists without restraint. There's nothing to stand in the way of its lethal path -- except me. And stand I will. I have to. I'm the only one strong enough left to fight. If it were left in his hands alone, the battle would already be lost. I won't let that happen. Not to him, not like this.

I dab his arms with balm. They're infected, there's no denying that. The tracks marring his tender, pale flesh will leave behind a legacy to be remembered for a lifetime. However long that lifetime may be I can no longer be sure.

"Bad?"

"You'll heal," I answer, trying in vain to believe my own words.

He lifts his arm. "I don't remember doing this. I swear, I don't remember."

"Shhh, just relax," I comfort."Just close your eyes and try and get some sleep."

"You'll stay?"

I nod a silent confirmation, my hand tenderly brushing across his furrowed brow. "I'll be here. I promise."

My soft words lull his troubled soul while my hands work diligently to tend to his wounded flesh. My own heart breaks.

He's asleep now, but I know it's only a matter of time before the cycle sets itself once more into motion. I stare down at his face, searching for answers. "Why?" I whisper. "Please help me understand. Was it for the excitement, the thrill of venturing into the unknown, or was it just simple curiosity? That damned insatiable curiosity of yours that cripples your judgment, luring, enticing you to seek the answer tothings that should be left alone."

I settle back in the chair beside his bed.God, I'm tired. So very tired, but I can't rest. I won't rest.

I pick up the manuscript that only days before had his eyes shining like a child on Christmas morning. I wonder how many men before him have discovered the secrets hidden in the brittle, yellow parchment? How many lives before have been taken by the pen of a man long since dead?

Turning the pages, I search for the answers. They're here. They have to be, because if they're not they'll be nothing left of the man I once knew. The gentle soul of Blair Sandburg will forever be consumed by the anguish of the beast.

As my eyes trail over the neatly penned words, I begin to read. Begin to pray that, just as he had found his Mr. Hyde,I will find my Dr. Jekyll. For the other half of the potion  _is_  the only thing that will set him free.

_*"O God!" I screamed, and"O God!" again and again; for there before my eyes -- pale and shaken, and half fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death -- there stood Henry Jekyll!"_

Happy Halloween!

*Quotes from Robert Louis Stevenson -- TheMaster of Ballantrae; A Winter's Tale and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.


End file.
